Jun 10, 2016 | Torat Devorah
This Shabbat we read Parshat Bamidbar, the start of the fourth book of the Torah. We find the Jewish people wandering through the desert, starting their epic 40-year journey. But first, Moses and Aaron take a census of the Jewish people. This is the reason that the English name for this book is Numbers.
According to rabbinic commentary, the way in which the census is taken, head by head, instills a feeling of self-worth and pride in each individual person. Moses could have instructed the heads of each family to report their number to him. Instead Moses counted each of the 603,550 Israelite men. This method certainly does not seem to be the most effective means of counting. And yet we can see that it was an important way for Moses to connect with each individual in a personal way.
Rabbi Lerner of Hillel Wisconsin explains: ‘Thomas J. Peters and Robert H. Waterman, Jr., in their book, In Search of Excellence, wrote, “Treat people as adults. Treat them as partners; treat them with dignity; treat them with respect. Treat not capital spending and automation as the primary source of productivity gains. These are the fundamental lessons from excellent companies…” In other words, “If you want productivity and the financial reward that goes with it, you must treat your workers as your most important asset.” (A Torah Commentary For Our Times, p. 13, edited by Harvey J. Fields) Not only is this sound business advice, it is a very Jewish way to treat other people. So when we are involved in other people’s lives, let’s make sure our actions count.’
The Torah says,” These are the offspring of Aaron and Moshe on the day Hashem spoke to Moshe at Sinai: These are the names of the sons of Aaron…” Event though the verse begins by saying “These are the offspring of Aaron and Moshe” it only enumerates and identifies the offspring of Aaron. Rashi cites the Gemara in Tractate Sanhedrin which says that because Moshe taught Torah to the sons of Aaron they are counted as his children also. As it states, “If a person teaches Torah to his friend’s child it is as if he fathered that child.” Teaching Torah in this context means that the majority of the child’s Torah knowledge comes from his teacher and that the teacher is also the child’s mentor. Rabbi Kalatsky asks: “The question is why is this principle so important for us to know that the Torah needs to teach us it from the verse dealing with the offspring of Aaron and Moshe? The answer is that the only way that Torah itself can be transmitted and internalized is through a rebbe. Just as the sons of Aaron became the sons of Moshe only through the transmission of Torah from Moshe so too the student becomes the son and the extension of his rebbe through is teaching and mentoring. It is only through this transmission that Torah can impact the individual and transform his essence. Therefore the verse in Pirkei Avos, “Make for yourself a rebbe and acquire a friend” is more than just “good advice”. It is a fundamental aspect of Judaism and the transmission of Torah from generation to generation. ”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Jun 2, 2016 | Torat Devorah
“If you walk in My laws…” (26:3)
The purpose of this world is to be factory to produce a product called “Olam Haba” — the World-to-Come. Rabbi Asher Sinclair explains:” …you can read the Torah from cover to cover and you won’t find one specific promise about the reward for keeping the mitzvot in the next world. Promises of reward in this world abound. We are promised the rains in their time; the land will give its produce and the trees will bear fruit; there will be an abundance of food that we will eat to satiety. We will dwell securely in our Land. No one will walk down a dark street and be frightened. No one will worry about sending their children off on the bus in the morning. There will be abundance and peace. Why is it that the Torah makes no open promises about the reward for keeping the mitzvot in the next world, but is replete with details of their reward in this existence? All reward and punishment in this world is through hidden miracles. When a person eats a bacon-cheeseburger and dies prematurely, nobody knows that he died because he ate a bacon-cheeseburger. People die at his age even when they don’t eat bacon-cheeseburgers. They die younger. A person gives tzedaka and becomes rich. You don’t see that he became rich because he gave tzedaka. There are plenty of rich people who don’t give tzedaka and yet become rich by receiving an inheritance or winning the sweepstakes. The hidden miracle is that a person who wasn’t destined to become rich or wasn’t supposed to die young, but because he gave tzedaka or because he ate the bacon-cheeseburger, G-d changed this person’s destiny. It’s miraculous, but it’s hidden. It looks like nature, but if it were actually the work of nature, then nothing that a person did in this world could have any effect on himself. For a person is born under a certain mazal, a certain destiny, and without the intervention of an outside force, the hidden miracle, nothing that a person did, whether for good or bad, would have any repercussions in this world. That’s why the Torah speaks at great length about the outcome of the performance (or non-performance) of the mitzvot in this world. For it is truly miraculous that our actions should affect anything in this world, a world that, aside from these hidden miracles, is run by a system of mazal and nature. Rashi explains that as far as the next world is concerned, it’s obvious that our actions will have repercussions there. The Torah doesn’t need to stress the reward and punishment in that existence because it’s obvious that people who engage in spiritual pursuits and serve G-d faithfully should receive spiritual rewards. But it is certainly not natural that people who are immersed in the work of the spirit, the study of Torah and the performance of mitzvot, should receive their reward in this world as well. Therefore, the Torah stresses the reward for keeping the mitzvot in this world, because that is something that no one could surmise without being told of its existence.
He shall not exchange it nor substitute another for it (27:33)
The Lubavitcher Rebbe explained that every person was born to a mission in life that is distinctly, uniquely and exclusively their own. No one—not even the greatest of souls—can take his or her place. No person who ever lived or who ever will live can fulfill that particular aspect of G‑d’s purpose in creation in his stead. This point is illustrated by a story told by the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn: A wealthy businessman and his coachman arrived in a city one Friday afternoon. After the rich man was settled at the best hotel in town, the coachman went off to his humble lodgings. Both washed and dressed for Shabbat, and then set out for the synagogue for the evening prayers. On his way to shul, the businessman came across a wagon which had swerved off the road and was stuck in a ditch. Rushing to help a fellow in need, he climbed down into the ditch and began pushing and pulling at the wagon together with its hapless driver. But for all his good intentions, the businessman was hopelessly out of his depth. After struggling for an hour in the knee-deep mud, he succeeded only in ruining his best suit of Shabbat clothes and getting the wagon even more hopelessly embedded in the mud. Finally, he dragged his bruised and aching body to the synagogue, arriving a scant minute before the start of Shabbat. Meanwhile, the coachman arrived early to the synagogue and sat down to recite a few chapters of Psalms. At the synagogue he found a group of wandering paupers, and being blessed with a most generous nature, invited them all to share his meal. When the synagogue sexton approached the paupers to arrange meal placements at the town’s householders, as is customary in Jewish communities, he received the same reply from them all: “Thank you, but I have already been invited for the Shabbat meal.” Unfortunately, however, the coachman’s means were unequal to his generous heart, and his dozen guests left his table with but a shadow of a meal in their hungry stomachs. Thus the coachman, with his twenty years of experience in extracting wagons from mudholes, took it upon himself to feed a small army, while the wealthy businessman, whose Shabbat meal leftovers could easily have fed every hungry man within a ten-mile radius, floundered about in a ditch. “Every soul,” said Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak in conclusion, “is entrusted with a mission unique to her alone, and is granted the specific aptitudes, talents and resources necessary to excel in her ordained role. One most take care not to become one of those ‘lost souls’ who wander through life trying their hand at every field of endeavor except for what is truly and inherently their own.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 27, 2016 | Torat Devorah
When you come into the land which I give you, the land shall rest a Sabbath unto G‑d (25:2)
Taken on its own, this verse seems to imply that “a Sabbath unto G‑d” is to be observed immediately upon entering the Land. But in practice, when the Jewish people entered the Land of Israel they first worked the land for six years, and only then observed the seventh year as the Shemittah (sabbatical year)—as, indeed, the Torah clearly instructs in the following verses.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains: “The Torah is telling us that a Shemittah is to both precede and follow our six years of labor: to follow it on the calendar, but to also precede it—if not in actuality, then conceptually. We find a similar duality in regard to the weekly seven-day cycle. The weekly Shabbat has a twofold role: a) It is the day “from which all successive days are blessed”—the source of material and spiritual sustenance for the week to follow. b) It is the “culmination” of the week—the day on which the week’s labors and efforts are harvested and sublimated, and their inner spiritual significance is realized and brought to light. But if every week must have a Shabbat to “bless” it, what about the week of creation itself? In actuality, G‑d began His creation of existence—including the creation of time—on Sunday, which is therefore called the “First Day.” But our sages tell us that there was a primordial Shabbat which preceded creation—a Shabbat existing not in time but in the mind of G‑d, as a vision of a completed and perfected world. Therein lies an important lesson in how we are to approach the mundane involvements of life. True, we begin with the material, for in a world governed by cause and effect, the means inevitably precede the end. But what is first in actuality need not be first in mind. In mind and consciousness, the end must precede the means, for without a clear vision of their purpose to guide them, the means may begin to see themselves as the end. The spiritual harvest of a Shabbat or Shemittah can be achieved only after a “work-week” of dealing with the material world and developing its resources. But it must be preceded and predicated upon “a sabbath unto G‑d” that occupies the fore of our consciousness and pervades our every deed.
“Do not make for yourselves idols…” (26:1) According to the Chovot Levovot the first cause of not recognizing G-d is that we focus on what we don’t have and take what we have for granted. We fail to see that our lives are a twenty-four-hour-a-day gift. In this week’s Torah portion the Torah seems to write a random list of laws: Shemita, laws of sale of moveable objects, laws of sale of land, sale of one’s house, laws of interest, the redeeming of a Hebrew slave and the redeeming of a Jew sold as a slave to a non-Jew. Rashi explains that the Torah is warning us of an inevitable progression.
What stops a person from keeping Shemita properly? Greed. Rabbi Asher Sinclair explains: “If we don’t keep Shemita properly we won’t profit from the sale of Shemita products. Quite the reverse. We will find ourselves short of money to the extent that we will have to sell our moveable property. If that doesn’t wake us up, the next step is we will be forced to sell our real estate. Then the house we live in. If that doesn’t bring us back, then we will commit the sin of lending money to Jews for interest. If we don’t stop there and repent, the next step is that we will have to sell ourselves to a fellow Jew as a servant, and if that doesn’t bring us to our senses, eventually we will be sold to a heathen and end up indulging in immorality, worshipping idols and breaking Shabbat. The main idol of the modern world is conspicuous consumption and material success.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 13, 2016 | Torat Devorah
You shall not hate your brother in your heart; rebuke, rebuke your fellow, but do not incur a sin on his account (19:17) If a person is wronged by another, he should not hate him and remain silent, as is said in regard to the wicked, “And Absalom did not speak to Amnon, neither good nor evil, for Absalom hated Amnon” (II Samuel 13:22). Rather, it is a mitzvah for him to make this known to him, and say to him, “Why did you do this-and-this to me? Why did you offend me in this way?”, as it is written: “Rebuke, rebuke your fellow.” And if that person expresses regret and asks him for forgiveness, he should forgive him…
In the Mishneh Torah, the Rambam explains that one who sees that his fellow has sinned, or is following an improper path, it is a mitzvah to bring him back to the proper path and to inform him that he sins by his bad actions, as it is written: “Rebuke, rebuke your fellow.” When one rebukes one’s fellow, whether it is regarding matters between the two of them or regarding matters between that person and G‑d, he should rebuke him in private. He should speak to him gently and softly, and should tell him that he is doing this for his own good, so that he may merit the World to Come. If that person accepts [the rebuke], good; if not, he should rebuke him a second time and a third time. He should continue to rebuke him to the point that the sinner strikes him and says to him, “I refuse to listen.” Whoever has the ability to rebuke and does not do so shares in the guilt for the sin, since he could have prevented it…One who is wronged by his fellow but does not desire to rebuke him or speak to him about it at all because the offender is a very coarse person, or a disturbed person, but chooses instead to forgive him in his heart, bearing him no grudge nor rebuking him, this is the manner of the pious. The Torah’s objection [to remaining silent] is only when he harbors animosity.
Love your fellow as yourself (19:18) Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi asks: Why did Hillel say that this is “the entire Torah”? Granted that it is the essence of all mitzvot governing our behavior “between man and man”; but the Torah also includes many mitzvot that are in the realm of “between man and G‑d.” In what way is the mitzvah to “Love your fellow as yourself” the essence of mitzvot such as praying, or ceasing work on Shabbat? The explanation can be found in the answer to another question: How is it possible to love another “as yourself”? Are not self and fellow two distinct entities, so that however closely they may be bound, the other will always be other, and never wholly as the self? As physical beings, one’s self and one’s fellow are indeed two distinct entities. As spiritual beings, however, they are ultimately one, for all souls are of a single essence, united in their source in G‑d. As long as one regards the physical self as the true “I” and the soul as something this I “has”, one will never truly love the other “as oneself.” But if the soul is the “I” and the body but its tool and extension, one can come to recognize that “self” and “fellow” are but two expressions of a singular essence, so that all that one desires for oneself, one equally desires for one’s fellow. Otherwise stated, the endeavor to love one’s fellow as oneself is the endeavor to cultivate one’s own spiritual identity; to see the soul and spirit as the true and ultimate reality, and the body and the material as extraneous and subservient to it. This is the entire Torah.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 5, 2016 | Torat Devorah
The reiterated poignant tragedy of Nadav and Avihu (Leviticus 10:1-3 and 16:1) reveals deep paradox and unanswered question. Why would God punish with death the well- intentioned sacrifice of his priestly servants, however ‘strange’ that offering? Why would religious practice that seeks God’s pleasure expose you to mortal danger?
- Shimshon Rafael Hirsch (1808-88) following Midrash Vayikra Rabba (traditional rabbinic narrative) found unbearable hubris in the need of Nadav and Avihu to seek personal attention and offer something unasked, a hubris so dangerous it brought their destruction. For Biblical Jewish leadership demanded self abnegating acceptance of the prescribed authority of God. The people’s urgent needs would not be met by even the most insistent charismatic personality, but by disciplined adherence to divine command. God struck them dead lest their charisma go unchallenged. But after they were struck down, we read: “” and (their father) Aharon was silent?!” (Leviticus 10:3). Rabbi Levi Lauer of Jerusalem comments: ‘The following is told of the Kotzker Rebbe (Menahem Mendel 1787-1859) which offers an appreciation of paradox and unanswerable question. Recall it’s the Kotzker who declared, maybe with Aharon in mind, “Nothing is as whole as a broken heart nor cries out more compellingly than silence.” Once, a hasid broke into the years long, self imposed [perhaps manic-depressive] isolation of the Kotzker, for he had deeply troubling thoughts. “What are these thoughts?” asked the Rebbe. “Woe is me, Rebbe. I hesitate to express them. Even in Gehinom there will be no forgiveness for them. They come [from my subconscious] against my will.” “What are they?” impatiently insisted the Kotzker. “Rebbe, sometimes I think, Heaven forefend, there is neither Judge nor justice in the world.” “And what do you care?” [Imagine that response from your therapist to a “breakthrough” moment.] “Rebbe, if there’s neither Judge nor justice, there can be no meaning to creation.” “And what do you care [and anyhow, who are you to worry] whether there’s meaning in creation?” “But Rebbe, if there’s no meaning to creation, there can be no meaning to the words of Torah.” “So what do you care if there’s no meaning to the words of Torah?” “Rebbe, if there’s no meaning to the words of Torah there can be no meaning to life and that matters to me a great deal. [Imagine a devotion to Torah so complete you really feel meaningful life and the words of Torah are inseparable.] Responded the Kotzker: “If that’s truly what’s disturbing you, then you are a kosher Yid/Yehudi kasher, a fit and appropriate Jew, and for a kosher Yid are permitted the most disturbing thoughts.”May we learn well enough to appreciate both questions without adequate answer and the power of paradox, and thus save ourselves from a religious arrogance that imperils all within our reach.’
You shall not go about as a talebearer amongst your people; you shall not stand by your fellow’s blood (19:16) The Talmud , Erachim 15a, states that: “Evil talk kills three people: the speaker, the listener, and the one who is spoken of.” The Lubavitcher rebbe explains: The speaker obviously commits a grave sin by speaking negatively of his fellow. The listener, too, is a partner to this evil. But why is the one who is spoken of affected by their deed? Are his negative traits worsened by the fact that they are spoken of? Indeed they are. A person may possess an evil trait or tendency, but his quintessential goodness, intrinsic to every soul, strives to control it, conquer it, and ultimately eradicate its negative expressions and redirect it as a positive force. But when this evil is spoken of, it is made that much more manifest and real. By speaking negatively of the person’s trait or deed, the evil speakers are, in effect, defining it as such; with their words, they grant substance and validity to its negative potential. But the same applies in the reverse: speaking favorably of another, accentuating his or her positive side, will aid him to realize himself in the manner that you have defined him.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Apr 26, 2016 | Torat Devorah
As we all know, starting on the second day of Pesach, we began the counting of the Omer, aka “Sfiras HaOmer”. Each night, for forty-nine days, we make a counting, “Day One”, “Day Two”, etc… all leading up to Shavous.
Several questions arise concerning Sfiras HaOmer, such as why do we count upwards, instead of down? Why is it called “Sfiras HaOmer”? If anything, should it not be called “Sfiras HaShavous”, since we are counting towards Shavous? And finally, why is it the Torah commands us to count fifty days, and we only count forty-nine (Shavous is the fiftieth)? Rabbi Tatz of Sourh Africa gives us some insight to the concept of Sfiras HaOmer: “Sefiras HaOmer is not a simple ‘counting down’ to some big event. We count down to things such as birthdays or anniversaries, but that is because they are dates where something is commemorative. Shavous on the other hand, isn’t a simple holiday where we celebrate the giving of the Torah. It is a day where we actually receive the Torah once again. Of course, in order to properly receive the Torah, we must prepare ourselves for it. Sfiras HaOmer is such a time of preparation, and that is why we are counting upwards. When an accountant counts money, he counts, “One dollar, two dollars, three dollars…”, always building upwards. So too, Sfiras HaOmer is time for building, hence we count, “Day One, Day Two…”. Each day is adding on to the work of previous days.”
Rabbi Tatz continues and compares Sfiras HaOmer to music. Music is comprised of several notes that are strung together. These notes, when played individually, mean and sound like nothing. Yet, when they are placed with other notes in a song, these same notes take on a whole new meaning. Day One of Sfiras HaOmer is the first note. Day two, is the second. This continues for forty-nine days. Finally, we hit Shavous. When we turn around, we notice a song comprised of forty-nine different notes. So what is the note for Shavous? The answer is: it’s not a note. Shavous is a compilation of all forty-nine notes. Shavous IS the song! By slowly and meticulously building each note day by day, we finally complete an entire song on Shavous. That is why we do not count the fiftieth day! Because there is no fiftieth note! That day exists not by itself, but rather as a compilation of the previous forty-nine days! We started to build a path on the second day of Pesach when the Korban Omer was brought. For the next six and a half weeks, we are to continue to build that path. Yet, their is a difference between this path and other paths. Other paths lead towards a destination. Sfiras HaOmer creates one!
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
